


Welcome to Hell, what can I get for you?

by Bloodorange_sorbetto



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Gen, and not one of you can convince me otherwise, because this fandom is sorely lacking in slice of life au's, coffee shop AU, m for swearing drug use and bc meph is degenerate, mephisto is the worlds worst customer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 00:38:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18981616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodorange_sorbetto/pseuds/Bloodorange_sorbetto
Summary: Mephisto Pheles is an infamously eccentric (and difficult) customer, Rin is a struggling barista in training, Shima shamelessly flirts to bring in tips for the team, Yukio is not a morning person, Bon is the reliable coworker who’s always willing to cover a shift, and Amaimon earns his eye bags by supervising them all, waking up at 3am 5 days a week to give the people what they want (the strongest coffee in town).A coffee shop AU with some twists! Amaimon is a run ragged cafe manager, struggling to juggle classes, coffee and his rent. He's balancing it all with his trusty team of baristas when a new customer takes a liking to his shop.With a new regular driving him crazy and the strain of a new semester hitting him in full force, will he be tempted to make a deal with the devil just to escape it all?





	Welcome to Hell, what can I get for you?

Amaimon took sharp steps through the tight twists and turns of available space between his flurrying baristas. Expertly dodging steam, elbows and feet, he worked his way to the two registers where customers had mobbed more than queued, and his poor cashiers leaned and strained to catch the frenzied orders of the morning rush crowd.

He reached a steady, purposeful hand forward and brushed a shoulder.

“Okumura. Get out of here.”

The startled teen fumbled with the paper cup in his hand, nearly dropping and catching it several times and leaving an ugly black line smeared across the company logo.

“Eh?” he whipped around to his supervisor after gaining control of the bouncing cup.

“Your break, Rin,” Amaimon clarified with a barely perceptible smile, recognizing his dry humor had gone unappreciated by the frazzled new kid.

It was Rin’s first rush flying solo after training, and the half-crumpled cup in his shaking hand was a testament to his struggle this morning. Not to mention the many, _many_ miswritten cups.

“Oh, I, uh,” he stammered, “but I have to…”

Amaimon nudged him gently away, taking the felt-tip marker and the creased cup from his hands.

“Go on,” he told the barista before turning back to the customer before him. He tossed the cup for a clean, stiff replacement. “Sorry about that, ma’am,” he said with a practiced smile, “what was it I could get going for you again?”

“Oh, no worries, sweetheart,” she flapped a good-natured hand his way, “I know how it gets in the morning. You’re all over the place, as usual. I don’t know how you do it, A-mon.”

“Oh, you know, Mrs. Moriyama. Just one minute at a time,” Amaimon said with an eye roll and a crooked smile.

She chuckled, “And here I go, not making your life any easier. I’ve gone and changed my mind again! One day, I promise you, I will settle on a usual and stop switching up my drinks on you. Uh…”

 She stared up at the board behind him lost a moment before remembering herself and shooting a nervous look back at the winding line of patrons behind her.

 “Ah! I’d better hurry. Let’s go with…hmm…Let’s try a…a French vanilla _breve_ latte today,” she said with an affirming not to herself. “Largest size you have with an extra shot.”

 The sweet woman stole another bashful glance at the queue before beginning a nervous dig through her tote, hands in the depths of the enormous bag searching for her wallet.

 “Don’t worry about a thing,” Amaimon told her calmly, hardly looking down as his hands flew across the screen to punch in her order and seemingly simultaneously write her cup with practiced, Instagram-worthy lettering.

 “The line would be there no matter what,” he waved. “Don’t mind it. We’ll get you out of here in the next 5 minutes.”

 She smiled back as she finagled with the card reader and paid.

 “You sure about that? Sounds awful fast for as slammed as you all are…”

 Amaimon pulled her receipt with a snap of his wrist the moment the last line printed and folded it neatly before passing it her way.

“I’m sure. My guys back here are the best in town. This is nothing. You have a good rest of your day.”

“You, too!” she beamed, gathering up her purse. Amaimon waved with a smile and a thank you as she scurried off to the bar to wait for her latte.

Turning to the register beside him, he murmured to the seasoned barista at the second register, “In 15 minutes, leave for your break no matter what.”

The pink-haired flirt manning the station smirked his way.

“Damn. Mid-rush? You sure about that, Boss?” Shima asked as he adjusted his hat and gave a friendly smile and wave to the next person in line. Or people, it turned out, as a gaggle of teenagers came forward as one. Under his breath, “Three iced chais, a white mocha and a bag of cookies. Bet?”

Amaimon shot a quick glance and muttered, “Two, a white mocha, a hot chocolate and a sack of cake pops. Bet. And put your goddamned phone away before I take it.”

“Hi!” Shima started brightly, slipping his phone into his apron pocket in a fluid motion as he reached for cups while the teens began to rattle off their orders.

 “I’ve got next over here!” Amaimon called to the crowd.

 Amaimon and Shima carried on together, tearing through the line. Fingers and cups flew as they smiled and joked and expertly passed out coffees and treats. Between the two of them line vanished after only a few minutes.

 Shima leaned on the counter and heaved a sigh.

“We’re early.”

“Yeah,” Amaimon agreed, throwing his head back. He watched the two baristas on bar. They juggled drinks together, perfectly in sync and wordlessly coordinating as they rushed between steam wands and ice scoops. Lattes and smoothies and teas appeared one after another at the bar in a flurried haze of steam and sweat.

Yukio was still fresh. He had only come in at 6. Bon had opened with Amaimon that morning, but he was an ox. He could handle a bit longer without a break.

In any case, he would have to. It would at least have to wait until Amaimon himself was freed up to help with drinks. Yukio got so snappy under the pressure of a bar rush alone...

 He glanced down at his watch. It was 6:41AM. He had been in since 3:30AM along with Rin, Shima and Bon. If Shima started his break at 6:50 instead of 6:45, it would put him alone on register for only ten minutes before the new guy came back. It might set Bon’s break back a tad since the morning rush would be in full blast by the time Shima got back (and Shima was always at least 3 minutes late from a break), but it should work.

“Shima,” Amaimon snapped. The barista shoved his phone back in his apron again. “Grind and start the brew of a full of house, queue a half of dark, refill the ice bin and wipe the customer side of bar. Then go.”

Shima gave a curt nod a rushed to the back to grab supplies.

The line they had killed together grew new life as rush hour commuters began to spill in the doors, but this time Amaimon would handle them all alone. He rang them out at speedy, steady pace while Shima hurried about with his tasks.

6:47. Shima just needed to prep the dark roast. Amaimon heard the pattering of beans falling into the grinder behind him. Almost there.

“Next!” he called.

“Oh shit, dude, that’s him!” Shima breathed into his ear. Amaimon didn’t turn or react to the barista’s whisper.

“Good morning!” he chirped cheerfully to his customer instead.

The order came relentlessly fast. Five drinks, one for the woman herself and four for her office mates. Amaimon nodded and smiled, but stole a moment to steal a glance at the man himself.

It wasn’t hard to catch a peek mid-transaction after all. He was exactly as the baristas had described to him the week before.

Thank god the woman’s order included a house drip. Amaimon set up the register for payment. 

“Oh, ma’am…ma’am, yes, it’s actually a chip reader. Yes, insert there. Awesome! You got it. I’ll be right back with that coffee and croissant. Just hang out here for me, okay?”

He snatched up a cup and whipped around next to Shima, facing the brewer to pour fresh, hot coffee straight into the sleeveless paper cup. Skin be damned, he could handle the stinging heat for moment.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Amaimon hissed to him, “Like what the _actual fuck,_ man.”

“ _I know!”_ Shima whispered back emphatically, not-so-tactfully craning around to get another good look at the newly arrived customer.

“Be cool, dumbass,” Amaimon snapped.

Shima scoffed.

“You better be fuckin’ cool, man. Last time he came through he put a freakin’ benny in the tip jar!”

He stepped around Amaimon quickly, brushing a hand across his back to warn the shorter man not to make any sudden movement and risk a stumbling coffee burn for either of them.

“Here’s your croissant. Don’t fuck up with that guy, though, I swear to god…Do you want me to just wait on my break?”

“No,” Amaimon replied sharply, “We’re already behind. Bon will be waiting on you and me after him. Go now.”

“Ugh!” Shima groaned, taking one last look behind him with a concerned expression, “Do _not_ fuck this up.”

Shima stalked off, pulling off his apron while he was still behind the counter only to immediately wad it up and twist his hat around backwards. He seemingly magically acquired an enormous cold brew and managed to pluck a cookie off the pastry display for breakfast before slipping away to the back room.

Amaimon returned his focus to the order he was filling and in a single gliding step was back at his register, unable to stop himself from peering at the curious, now-legendary customer only a few transactions away.

He was supposed to be some eccentric, loaded guy, and _oh, was he_.

He was dressed head-to-toe in a perfectly-pressed, white suit. His hair was a rich, dark purple that seemed to inspire the rest of the ensemble’s accents: satin-y lavender gloves, a gaudy purple polka-hearts ascot, and gold heart-shaped sunglasses. Fully polarized. It might not have been _so_ ridiculous if he wasn’t also taller than the damn door frame and string-bean thin. Oh, wait, _yeah it fucking would have been._

He was young, too. Not a day over 30. Probably born wealthy. If his fashion sense didn’t let on to his apparent financial status, the obvious quality of his clothes and his expensive-looking and perfectly styled haircut and beardcut (who does that? It was obviously shaped by a professional!) did.

Though his eyes were completely hidden, he faced Amaimon and restlessly twirled a diamond-shaped paperweight about in his glove and ring covered hand. No, it was the embellished top of a gold cane that twirled in his lazy grasp. _A fucking cane_.

The line moved and the lavender prince stepped forward, both arms bent at the elbow as he sashayed dramatically forward. The movement drew attention to his…purse? An almost-classic appearing pearl white Dior bag that had been obviously customized (or butchered) at home with silver glitter and rhinestone appliques _._

Amaimon noticed a tremor in his hands as he made it to the customer just before the bizarre, practically mythical man. He barely paid attention to the poor guy, ringing his order with lightning fast speed without so much as a joke.

Just as he was about to call the beast himself forward—

“Uh, hey, now what?” Rin asked, fiddling with his name tag.

Amaimon snapped out of his gawking hypnosis.

“Oh, um, I—”

“Ice! Honey!” Yukio called out into the air.

“Whole, skim, chai!” Bon also yelled to seemingly no one.

He was so close! Amaimon could just send the new kid, but it would take three times as long since he probably didn’t remember where everything was yet.

He could send Bon, but Yukio was such a pain at the bar by himself. Amaimon had no chemistry with him, always bumping shoulders. And Yukio’s demeanor frayed annoyingly easily.

His curiosity was too strong. Against his better judgment, he held his finger on the receipt printer and ripped off a long, blank piece of paper.

“Can you make a list and then grab whatever they need on bar? Honey is on the top shelf in the very back. Chai is underneath soy. If you need any help, Shima’s back there.” Rin nodded and hurried off to his task.

“Next in line, please!” Amaimon called out to the man. He strolled forward, his ruined, shimmering designer bag, clicking fucking cane and all.

He grabbed the frame of his heart shaped glasses and twisted his head to remove them, making sure to get his hair to sway dramatically in the process as he revealed his honey gold eyes. Instead of lifting the glasses to rest on his head, he had to take them off completely and set them on the rim of his white and purple top hat _because he was wearing a white and purple top hat a 7AM in a coffee shop._

As if realizing some mistake, he snatched the glasses off the hat almost immediately and put the end of one hook against his mouth to drag along his lips as he spoke.

“Good morning, darling,” he purred.

“Good morning,” Amaimon said as flatly as he could, “What can I get started for y—”

**Author's Note:**

> Special thank you to threeandthirteen for the fic title!


End file.
